


After the War

by GhostKing0291



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I hope it's good, I'm Sorry, Maybe - Freeform, My attempt at angst, Suicide Attempt, There's no actual relationships in this, This is possibly sad?, actual suicide, but it could be seen as a ship, i'm very critical of my own work so i have no idea if this is good or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 13:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostKing0291/pseuds/GhostKing0291
Summary: Nobody would be able to go two steps without hearing the hushed whispers of Harry Potter, the name of the boy-who-lived. His name. The war was over, he won… yet as he made his way up the Astronomy tower, it didn’t feel like a victory. How many people were injured because he was hiding like a coward? How many were tortured because he wasn’t fighting? How many died because he was too slow?





	After the War

Harry Potter. The name was a legend, a story of a boy who not only survived the killing curse but overcame it and brought one of the darkest wizards of all time to a timely end. The name was latched onto an image of a scar in the shape of lightning, branching down the forehead of the green-eyed wonder. Everybody knew about Harry Potter, and if they didn’t, they would now.

Nobody would be able to go two steps without hearing the hushed whispers of Harry Potter, the name of the boy-who-lived. His name. The war was over, he won… yet as he made his way up the Astronomy tower, it didn’t feel like a victory. How many people were injured because he was hiding like a coward? How many were tortured because he wasn’t fighting? How many died because he was too slow?

It wasn’t his fault, he was fighting, looking for the Horcruxes to defeat Voldemort. It was the most pitiful excuse he’d ever heard of. Everybody knew someone who died in the war, the Weasleys, the Malfoys, McGonagall. Everybody was mourning… and it was all his fault. He didn’t kill them, part of his mind was still fighting for his innocence, but he knew the truth. He was responsible for everything.

Why couldn’t he have just stayed dead? People would have been so much better off without his help, Hermione was just tied down by him, Ron was held back with his weight. He was nothing but a pretty face. Harry wondered vaguely if this was how Cedric felt before he… Cedric…

He was the first to die in the war, Harry had seen him die first hand. He was there, he could have stopped it, he could have saved him. But he froze, like a coward, and let others deal with the pain. He should have stayed dead. He shouldn’t be alive.

When he reached the top of the tower, he was surprised to see that is was already occupied by none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry cautiously walked towards the blonde, noticing all too well that he was standing dangerously close to the edge.

“Hey… don’t do it please…” Harry was furious. He tried for hours to escape from everyone to get here, he tried for hours! And now that he was here, somebody else was here too! He wanted to scream. ‘For Merlin’s sake, please! Are you serious?’ He thought to himself. He tried so hard.

“Why not Potter? Scared this might take away from your headline tomorrow?” The words were spat out at him. ‘No’ he thought bitterly to himself, ‘I just can’t believe that for some stupid reason you got here before me.’ He didn’t dare say the words out loud, and he felt bad for even thinking of it. But he couldn’t stop himself from agreeing with the thought.

“No,” Harry winced at the way he snapped defensively. “I just know that if you do this, people will miss you. Your family will miss you.” Malfoy laughed bitterly, he turned around and he saw the tears that were slowly streaming down the boy’s cheeks. When had they grown up? It felt like it was only yesterday they first met at Madam Milken’s.

“If you didn’t notice, Potter, I was on the wrong side, my family was on the wrong side!” Malfoy flailed his arms around, almost desperately. As if that would prove his point. “Nobody cares about what happens to Death Eaters.” Harry knew it was true, he knew how people would react if Malfoy went through with this, people would stare and go on their life, even going as far to say he probably deserved it.

“I care.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. In the end, his conscience was put on the backseat as the sole purpose of keeping Malfoy alive took control. “I know it isn’t much, but I care. Don’t look at me like that, I don’t care like that, but I do care. And so do your friends and your family.”

Malfoy stayed quiet. He didn’t say anything as he turned back to face the night sky, there wasn’t a single cloud. It felt like it should be pissing down with rain, it sounded like it. Or maybe that was just his blood gushing through his head, he wasn’t certain.

“It’s true, maybe the public doesn’t, won’t, care. But they aren’t important. The people you know and care about are important. Your family is important. You are important.” There was silence after that. Neither of them saying anything, nor made any sort of movement. It was just them, living in this moment, possibly for the last time. The silence stayed for several more moments until Draco turned around again and leapt into Harry’s chest.

He thought he was being attacked for a moment, but when his heart calmed down, he realised Draco was hugging him. His shirt felt wet from the tears, but he didn’t say anything as he slowly returned the hug. Dark thoughts entered his mind as he softly held the blond Slytherin. They stayed that way for what felt like hours before eventually Draco calmed down and they slowly stood up.

They looked at each other before they walked down the tower together. They didn’t say anything, after all, nothing needed to be said. When they re-joined the bustling group of people downstairs, they joined their friends. Nobody asked where he was or asked what happened. Nobody cared what had happened to him.

Harry tried not to let it get to him, he knew this would happen. A single word made him relax though, tomorrow. Tomorrow he would try again. And then people could finally let this war truly end. People could move on. He ignored the stares and the bodies around him. The suffocating thoughts seemed to drown him as he walked out of the Great Hall. His fault, the words repeated themselves, his fault his fault his fault. Tomorrow

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk up to the Astronomy Tower seemed dark and gloomy, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved. He didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. The fear of nightmares, or worse, that he would see once again what Voldemort was doing. What if he wasn’t dead? What if he came back and it all started again? He couldn’t be the cause of any more deaths, he didn’t want any more blood on his hands.

No, Voldemort was dead, he saw the body. He heard it made a dull thud against the ground. The war was done and nobody else would die. Not because of him. His stomach broke through his thoughts, he was hungry. He skipped dinner last night, feigning illness, and left the dormitories before breakfast had even started. He didn’t turn around towards the kitchen though, he didn’t care. Soon enough, he wouldn’t feel anything.

That wouldn’t be the case though. As once again, when he made his way up the final steps of the tower, he was not alone. When he reached the top, he was greeted by blonde hair and yellow robes. Hannah Abbott if he remembered the name correctly. The fact that she was still wearing her school robes didn’t escape him, she likely hadn’t changed since yesterday.

“Hey…” His voice rung out. She was staring at him with a frown from where she sat. She wasn’t close to the edge thankfully, but she was still here. The same angry thought from last night came to his mind. ‘Are you serious?! How many people are going to get here before me?’ He only felt slightly guilty this time.

“Harry Potter.” His name was whispered into the air, she looked so sad and weak. He eventually sat down next to her, willing himself not to look at where Dumbledore once stood and fell. “What are you doing here?” Her voice quivered slightly but otherwise held strong. He instantly regretted how he called her weak.

“I could ask you the same question.” Silence hung in the air, something he was getting used to. For a moment he thought that would be it, but soon Abbott started to talk. It wasn’t about anything specific, but she kept talking. And Harry felt it important to listen, so he did. She talked about Hogwarts, and Dumbledore’s Army, and the war.

“I lost my parents. I lost everyone… I have nobody left.” She started crying, scrunching up her robes as she fiddled with them. He moved awkwardly to hug her, feeling as though he was getting good at this. “What am I supposed to do? How do you move on from that?” Honestly? He didn’t know. He never really moved on from his parents’ deaths, and everyone else… how could you possibly get over that?

“It will take time.” He hated it, he hated himself. How could he still pretend to be a hero? After all, he’s done… “But you’re strong. I’ve seen what you can do, in class and in the DA. Your parents wouldn’t want you to do this, your friends wouldn’t want this.”

With a deep breath, he tried to think of how to continue. He held the girl close to him as he thought of possible words.

“You’re strong enough to live through this, you can do this. It will take time, but eventually, these wounds will heal, and you could help heal others through their pain.” Abbott didn’t respond for a moment before she hugged back tightly. Harry almost felt chocked, he could barely breathe through her tight grip.

“You really think so?” Harry only nodded as the grip on him loosened. Hannah smiled up at him, her eyes were red and her cheeks wet, and though she looked like she was in pain, she looked genuinely happy at that moment.

She grabbed his hand silently, a choked laugh escaping her as she pulled him up. They looked at each other, and he suddenly got déjà vu from last night once again before he found himself being pulled towards the stairs again.

“Come on, let’s get breakfast.” Before they started making the descent of stairs, he looked back at the edge of the tower longingly. Before he was dragged away from it. He once again made his way into the great hall, no longer full of bodies of the dead or rubble. There was still much to do to fix the castle, but the hall was starting to look as it did before the war.

Once again, his plans for trying to rid the world of himself was foiled by somebody else. And somehow, he still managed to play the hero. Why didn’t people get that he was the bad guy? He was just as bad as Voldemort! All his deaths were Harry’s as well! Why didn’t the get it? Why didn’t they want him dead?

Tomorrow. People would understand tomorrow. After a small portion of food, he made his way to his bed in the Gryffindor common room and repeated the word that brought him hope. Tomorrow, just wait until tomorrow.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day had come and gone, and it was once again a new day. However, due to his obvious bad luck, he had to wait until that evening. People kept coming up to him, forcing him to celebrate. Why would they celebrate? After all this death? He couldn’t bear the thought of celebrating his mistakes. Why didn’t anybody understand it?

The steps up to the tower were heavy and full of pain. He briefly wondered who he would encounter this time. The question was answered in the form of red hair and screams of agony. George… His own tears started falling, of course. Fred, how could he forget? How could he be so selfish? Here he was talking about his own struggles when George lost an entire half oh himself.

The twin, not-twin he had to remind himself, turned around and smiled at him. Thick and ugly tears were pouring down both their faces. Nothing was said as they immediately walked up to each other and hugged. Nothing needed to be said.

They both collapsed on the flow and cried, mourning together. There was so much pain, and nobody else seemed to notice or decided they didn’t care. How could anybody possibly do that? They stayed there for hours, just finding comfort in each other. After what felt like an eternity though, George spoke.

“Hey… don’t do it…please.” Harry wanted to feign ignorance, pretend he didn’t know what he was talking about, but they both knew it would have been a lie. So instead, Harry just shook his head, not saying a word in case his voice betrayed him. He looked into the blue eyes in front of him and they both just stared at each other.

They eventually walked away together before separating. Harry walked up to his bed and collapsed into a fitful sleep. He had dreams of screams of agony, people crying. All the faces of those who died screaming at him, why didn’t he save them? He couldn’t, he tried. He didn’t try hard enough. He should have tried harder, he should have saved them, he should have stayed dead.

He woke up to darkness, the snores of Ron nearby gave him little comfort. He quickly made his way to the bathroom nearby, not caring if he ran into anything. He hurled into the toilet, ignoring the burning in his throat and the tears stinging his eyes. His stomach was empty, but the bile tasted worse than if he did eat anything.

He was tired, he was hungry… he was weak. He couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t know how to deal with this. He’d tried for the past three days to try and… some would say it was a sign that fate or destiny or whatever didn’t want him to do it. But that was straight up shit.

After he had a couple of minutes to recover, he started to make his way towards the tower again. He didn’t care if anyone was there anymore. The climb up the tower felt different than it did the other times. It felt like he was going home like he was next in line to a ride that he was looking forward to but there was a ridiculously long line.

When he reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, he was thankful to find it empty. With brisk steps he made his way to the edge, hesitantly, he looked down at the giant drop below him. He took a few deep breaths. There was nobody to interrupt him this time, nobody but him and his thoughts.

His eyes started to sting again, and he felt the familiar wetness start falling down his cheeks. A small smile broke on his face, it was the first time he had smiled in what felt like forever. A laugh escaped him, how long had he waited for this moment? His laugh bubbled through him and he soon found that his whole body was shaking.

Harry looked down, he supposed he should have been surprised with what he saw. Below him stood his family, his friends. Everyone he lost, smiling up at him. Cedric, Sirius, Fred, Remus… his parents were there. They smiled up at him, tears of their own forming, as they stretched out their hands.

With one final laugh, he jumped, revelling in his new-found freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was my first time trying to write something like this in a while, so I'm sorry if it's kinda crappy. I'm also sorry if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, this isn't hasn't been beta-read by anyone. This was inspired by the song 'My R' covered by Rachie, so if you're curious about it, check it out it's a pretty good song. I hope you enjoyed it.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOV2c0TiPpI
> 
> On a more serious note, if you are depressed or are suicidal or feel like you don't matter, please go get help. Because I promise you, somebody out there cares about you, you are loved and you do matter. Please go get help.


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